This business of not speaking Czech

Naturally, Mrs. Jana would say that I am entirely to blame for my problems in this respect. But secretly, I grow ever more convinced that she is in fact teaching me a language that is entirely the product of her devious and corkscrew-twisty mind. I'm not even sure that she's really Czech anymore.

She's very convincing, I'll grant you that, what with her "Ahoj!"s, and her "Dobry den!"s, and her friendly chit-chat with the receptionist (who has been persuaded to supply not one but TWO little pots of creamer for Mrs. Jana's coffee).

But there's a suspiciously wide gap between the "standard" Czech she is teaching me, and the Czech I hear around me daily.

Mrs. Jana, being nothing if not wily to the point of paranoia, may suspect that I'm onto her cunning ruse. In a recent transparent effort at a double bluff, she's been giving me "Colloquial Czech" lessons, where she explains the differences between her so-called "Standard Czech" and the local Praguish dialect.

Except, it's all too perfect, somehow... Yes... Too different. Too odd...

For example:

„What is the correct Czech word for window?“
(Note how she even speaks with proper Czech speech marks in her attempt to convince me of the authenticity of this language of hers. She truly is Machiavellian in her genius.)
"Okno."
„Good. This is correct Czech. But if you are speaking to SOME people from Prague who do not speak proper Czech, they will say it differently.“
Thinks: "Erkna? Akno? Ooknoo? How bad can it be?"
„Yes. In Prague – and this is an absolutely TERRIBLE way of speaking – SOME people will say…“
Thinks: "Nooo... the suspense. It is unbearable."
„...these people will say... «Vokno»!“
"Isn't that like saying, 'in the window' but with the wrong ending?"
„Yes. You are correct. This is what it sounds like. But actually, in this TERRIBLE Prague way of speaking, it is just the word for 'window'.“
"So what do you say if you are really talking about in the window?"
„Do not be ridiculous. You know it is not possible in the Czech language to be 'in the window' like this. You should instead say «through the window», or «by the window», or «slightly below the window.» With the correct declension, of course.“
"Of course."
„Good. So if, while you are in the street in Prague, you hear someone speaking in this TERRIBLE Prague way of speaking, you will always hear them put a «v» before any word that starts with an «o».“
"Really?"
„Yes. But with some exceptions. I will tell you them next week.“
"Vooknoo. Vootevrenoo. Voven. Except for next week. Got it, thank you."
„This is correct. But you should never speak like this in public. It is a TERRIBLE Prague way of speaking.“
"V... okay."
„Good. When my daughters leave voicemail for me in this TERRIBLE Prague way of speaking, I phone them and make them leave messages in the correct way.“
"Ah."
„Fine. This part of the lesson is finished. We will now discuss the grammatically correct way to point at things.“

More structure...kinda

And now, for the next exciting, czechtastic piece of vocabulary...

únor

(ta-daaa!)

aka

February.

Which
comes
very
obscurely
very
obscurely
indeed
from
some
word
that
means
the
dripping
of
ice.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.

Drip.


Drip.


Dri-
-
-
-ip

There is no other similar word alas. Unless you count "Februaryish". But this particular bit of vocab does start us down the long and winding road of Czech diacritics, with its extra-special "ú". meaning a long "u". Or ooooooooo.

Sometimes you can see the long "u" written with a little circle above it, like this: "ů". It sounds the same, but harkens back to a dim and distant past, in which the letter "o" was mysteriously involved in the word, before something, possibly angry diacritics or vengeful graphemes, ate it. Or maybe just the top bit.

Drip

Sometimes... sometimes... the "o" comes back.

Drip

But not in ůnor, because it's not spelled with the little "o", but with an acute and rather dashing accent, as in únor. How can you tell when to make your ooooo with dash not dot? Well, the dash happens when "u" comes at the beginning of the word.

In 1848 (count 'em, baby) some madmen decided that no Czech national renaissance could possibly be complete without an orthographical overhaul and decided that the "ou" (oh-ooo) dipthong at the beginning of the roots of words should be changed to "ú". Because that's how it was pronounced.

But somewhen around the same time, the long "o" ("ó") was being pronounced, "uo" (ooo-ohh - I like it when the beat goes -), and so to save paper in a time of wood-pulp and vellum scarcity, they decided to write the "o" part of the dipthong (-thong, -thong, -thong, -thong) much, much smaller above the "u". And then, the pronounciation changed, and the rest is history... er... orthography.

Trying for structure

Ahhh.... structure. Very important thing. Number one in the top tip of being a better, stronger blogger. A more noble blogger. A finer blogger who blogs on more beautiful things in a more beautiful way. So I hereby give myself the gift of structure. From now on, Monday will be Czech word of the week day. "See how easy it is?" they cry.

Well, to be frank it's also a bit of a cheat, because this way, I get to revise my vocabulary and thus perhaps decrease Mrs. Jana's agonised looks as I plow my way through the wild and crazy range of practice sentences using "If..." Besides, who wouldn't want to learn Czech?

I'm cheating even more, because I've got the 1st twelve sorted out already. Here goes number one.

"Leden". Say it like "leaden". Exactly like "leaden", in fact. Which is a very good thing because what it really means is "January", and that's pretty much the colour of the sky that time of year (when it's not night, of course. Or one of those glorious, piercingly bright winter days where the cold and the sky threaten to strip the colour out of your eyeballs. In a good way.)

If you're into your Czech etymology (not entomology - do I detect the stirrings of another theme?) then of course, you probably already know that the root of "Leden" is "led" which means "ice" or "cold" or gets shoved into all kinds of words to send chills down the spine and raise mental goosebumps.

By this, I mean words which refer to all things icy (ledovy), cold (led, but also zima - don't go that way, it's dark and scary and seasonal) and glacial (ledovcovy), like fridges (lednicka), freezers (lednicka, yawn), ice-breakers (ledoborec) and icebergs or glaciers (ledovec). Or to put it into real terms, right now I am drinking a lot of "ledová káva" which can only be a good thing, because this month is pretty much the opposite of Leden. At least as the temperature goes.